


We Bleed the Same

by binarystarkillers



Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, also angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binarystarkillers/pseuds/binarystarkillers
Summary: He wondered if his mother would see the scar, if she’d link it back to the night he awoke screaming in agony and clutching the left side of his face, barely able to breathe through the sobs.
Relationships: Ray Garraty & Art Baker, Ray Garraty & Peter McVries, Ray Garraty/Peter McVries
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> QUICK BUT IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I do use some of Stephen King's dialogue in this chapter. This is for a reason, as explained in the end notes, and is also the only chapter in which the orignal dialogue is used.

“Don’t go,” Jan had begged him, beautiful even while crying. “Ray, baby, please, don’t go.”

He hadn’t replied, unable to even look her in the eye. He had just stared straight ahead, eyes unseeing and head full of silence. She’d pulled out all the stops, crying, begging, cursing, anything to try to persuade him to stay, but as the last opt-out day grew closer, she seemed to realize that no matter how many tearful words she spoke, no matter what false promises she made, nothing would dissuade him.

Her words fell on deaf ears. Garraty couldn’t answer her questions, even if he wanted to, could only shrug and mumble excuses under his breath, a hollow beneath his ribcage slowly spreading out, inky tendrils of nothingness that left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

She didn’t come out to cheer for him as he left for the Walk with his mother, and he shrugged when his mother asked why she hadn’t seen her face in the crowd who’d awoken to see him off, high school classmates he’d never spoken to waving signs made out of cut up shoeboxes and finger paint. 

“She came to talk last night,” he mumbled, and his mother seemed to accept that, briefly squeezing his shoulder before bringing her hand back to the wheel of the car. Her wrist caught the light shining off of the review mirror, and Garraty winced at the sudden glint of blue-silver light. 

“Sorry,” Miranda Garraty said, softly, and pulled the sleeves of her cardigan a bit lower on her wrists. 

“S’all right.”

His mother’s hands were shaking badly as they continued to drive, and she would squeeze her eyes shut, hard, every few minutes to stop the budding tears. Garraty tried to strike up a conversation, but her voice was so brittle that all attempts fell short, and he found himself instead gazing out the window, watching cars roll by. He wondered how many others on this freeway were going to the same place he was, how many other boys were double-checking their packs, brushing off their mother’s worries. 

In the same sort of disenchanted daze, he handed his blue ID card through the window, and half-listened to his mother’s fretting as they pulled into the grounds.

“Don’t worry,” he said absent-mindedly, stepping out of the car and adjusting the collar of his jacket. His mother shivered a little in the morning chill, and drew her cardigan protectively over her chest. 

Her eyes took on that pleading set that he had learned to dread, and he braced himself for the oncoming words. 

“Ray. Ray, listen, there’s still time to change your mind-”

“No, there’s no time for that. The backout date was yesterday.”

“They’d understand, I know they would. The Major-”

“The Major would-” Garraty’s words died in his mouth.

A few more cars had entered while the two had been talking, but his attention was drawn to one in particular, the shock settling deep into his bones.

He was a little taller than Garraty, with black hair that curled around his temples and ears. The morning light was still tinting the sky golden, and in turn the sky painted his skin gold, his hair wreathed by a laurel of sunlight. He was talking to his parents now, his face hidden, but Garraty had known what he had seen. Who he had seen.

“You know what the Major would do,” he said from far away, utterly transfixed. 

His mother was saying something else, but he couldn’t understand anything she was saying through the reeling of his mind. 

“Mom, I love you, but this is for the best, okay? I have to go,” he said, and forced himself to tear his eyes away from the boy and back to her. 

She hesitated, and then nodded. “Be a good boy, Ray.”

“Goodbye, mom.”

A few tears slipped out of her eyes as she hugged him, and presented him with a small package of homemade cookies, which he accepted, his eyes still wandering over to the boy as if he was magnetic. 

Which, Garraty thought with no amount of sinking unease, he supposed he was. 

As his mother stepped back, she wiped at her eyes, and Garraty saw another spider web-thin mark near her collar bone, still burning a bright silver-blue in the early light. He felt a little like throwing up.

The boy was now sitting down near the other Walkers, re-tying a shoe. He looked up when Garraty stood above him, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Hi.”

“Hi. I’m Ray Garraty,” he said, wanting to cringe at the stilted greeting.

“I’m Peter McVries.”

Garraty nodded, and sat down next to him. Peter. It suited him, he thought dimly.

“I’m- we’re-” he said, and then thought better of it.

McVries looked at him oddly, but didn’t say anything. More cars with more Walkers were arriving, and he and McVries slowly moved closer together, exchanging casual conversation. Garraty was a popular enough kid, but he found himself a little surprised by how effortless talking to McVries was; their conversation, while largely superficial, held the cadence of two people who had known each other for years.

Glancing around as he and McVries made their way over to two other boys sitting in the shade, Garraty was surprised to see the lack of marks on the other boys. It was one of the most common reasons for walking, and those who glowed at night always garnered the sympathy of the crowds. It was a noble idea, he supposed, but the idea of marks right now made him more afraid than it ever did before. After all, there would be more marks on one boy before the Walk ended. 

He didn’t even know who he wanted it to be. Selfishly, he knew he wanted to live, would keep placing one foot ahead of the other until he either died or won. For someone so afraid of death, he was embracing it with open eyes, holding a knife to his own throat, but as he saw a flash of dark green as a soldier walked to his halftrack, he felt a sticky trickle of fear and knew that he would force himself to run the course of the Walk if it meant escaping a ticket. But he also remembered the night his father died. He remembered his mother’s fork clattering to her plate as she screamed in agony, her chest glowing so brightly that he could see it under her blouse.

The other boys they sat with seemed all right, and as they exchanged pleasantries and small talk, Garraty found himself warming to them, especially Art Baker, who’s gentle accent and wide blue eyes made him think of warm summer days and Jan’s strawberry lemonade.

Oh, god, _Jan_ , he thought as the boys stood waiting for their cue to start walking. What would Jan do? What would happen to her? He thought of her rare smile, and felt faint.

“Good luck,” McVries said, his voice cutting through Garraty’s thoughts like a knife.

“Good luck to you.” 

McVries was still next to him, his scar jutting out of his skin with how hard he was clenching his jaw. He wondered if his mother would see the scar, if she’d link it back to the night he awoke screaming in agony and clutching the left side of his face, barely able to breathe through the sobs.

The Major gave them their signal, and they started walking towards a pre-dug grave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza, panic and general stupidity.

“So, are you matchless or just an ass?”

Garraty looked up, surprised. Parker was the one who had spoken, and he gestured at Garraty’s mouth in lieu of explanation, which was still red and kiss-swollen. 

Uncomfortable, Garraty shrugged. “I got a girl at home.”

“Jan, right?” Art smiled, and Garraty felt himself relax a little. “She your soulmate?”

“I-”

“Oh, cut the kid some slack,” McVries had finally reappeared, and he ruffled Garraty’s hair in greeting. “Hell, we’re on the road to the damn slaughterhouse. Can’t blame him for wanting to get his rocks off first.”

There was a ripple of laughter, and Garraty grinned up at McVries, pathetic relief written all over his face. He still didn’t know what to think about McVries, couldn’t detangle the knot of his thoughts about him, just kept twisting it around as it grew more complex. But in that moment, everything was simple; McVries had come to his defence, and he was grateful. 

McVries winked at him, and the relief was gone in place of a sudden rush of red-hot shame dropping into his gut as he realized McVries’ arm had wound around his shoulders. Drawing his shoulders closer together, he ducked out from under his arm, and tried to persuade himself he didn’t miss the warmth. 

The conversation moved on, and Garraty slowly felt himself draw away from the group, like a wounded animal slinking away to shelter. His cheeks were still warm, and he was certain that it wasn’t just from the sunburn he could tell was starting. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for not bringing a packsack with him, but the passing thought was quickly buried under a cesspool of emotion. Guilt, fear, anger, shame, and loathing churned away in his mind, coating his every thought with their watery glaze.

“I didn’t peg you as one of the first to go.”

Garraty looked to his right, surprised. It was the boy from the tree, his shoulders relaxed and his hands shoved in the pockets of his ridiculous purple pants like he was just going for an early morning stroll.

“What?”

The boy smiled at him, nearly predatory. Something about him set Garraty on edge, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Has the walk taken its toll on you already?” he asked, strands of thin blond hair falling in his eyes as he cocked his head.

“Ah, no. Just - thinking.”

The boy just hummed, but altered his pace so that he fell in step with Garraty. Impulsively, Garraty stuck out his hand, vaguely surprised by himself.

“I’m Ray Garraty.”

The boy hesitated, looking at Garraty’s hand like it would bite him, before gingerly taking it.

“Stebbins.”

Garraty waited for a first name, but as the silence grew longer, he realized he wasn’t getting one. He dropped Stebbins’ hand, his own hanging awkwardly by his sides. The pair walked for a few minutes, the silence as thick and heavy as the humid summer air. Garraty’s head was beginning to ache, and he twisted the cap off of his canteen as he spoke again:

“So, what d’you think’ll kill us first? The soldiers or the heat?”

“You sound like your soulmate.”

Garraty nearly bought his ticket.

His mind went totally blank as he doubled over as if Stebbins had punched him in the gut, the air leaving his lungs in one fell swoop. Gasping in a breath so harshly it brought stinging tears to his eyes and made him begin to cough, he stopped for a second to place his hands on his knees and push himself into a standing position, garnering a warning.

Ahead of them, McVries coughed, stumbling forward and catching Art Baker’s shoulder for stability. The sound cut through the spinning of Garraty’s thoughts, and he felt a swell of concern rise in him like a helium balloon before he saw that McVries was fine, walking on without a warning, the flash of Garraty’s pain seemingly faded. Garraty screwed his eyes shut, willing the tears from his coughing fit away.

When he felt like he could speak without fainting, he turned back to Stebbins. 

“What-”

“Oh, don’t waste my time. Anyone with eyes could tell that you and 61 are soulmates; although I suppose that means that the other ninety eight here are blind.”

“Pete,” Garraty corrected without thinking, and cringed. Stebbins laughed, his Cheshire’s grin growing larger. 

“Pete, then,” he agreed. “Does he know?”

Garraty stared at the ground in front of him, memorizing every nick in the concrete, every weed growing through the cracks, every drop of browning blood in the baking sun.

Stebbins whistled, a low, mocking, sound. 

“He doesn’t, does he?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?”

“It’s not as big of a deal as you’d think, meeting your match here.”

There was a beat, and then:

“I met mine, too.”

Garraty blinked, dumbfounded. “You met your match?”

“Hold up,” a familiar voice cut in, “you’re telling me _he_ has a match?”

Garraty turned to see Olson come up behind them, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. His skin was sallow, his eyes growing gaunt, but his voice was strong as he continued.

“What the fuck? How does this greasy fuck have a match before me?”

Garraty laughed, shaky and anxious as he stared at Olson, hoping against hope that he hadn’t heard their earlier conversation.

Olson cracked a smile at his own joke, seemingly unaware of Garraty’s anxieties, and Stebbins just shrugged, something ancient behind his pale blue eyes. 

“Anyway, asshole - Garraty, not you, though you’re probably an asshole too - we need your opinion.”

“With what?”

“McVries thinks that pineapple belongs on pizza. Come tell him he’s a monster.”

Garraty nodded at Stebbins, who didn’t react, and angled his path to rejoin the Musketeers. Beside him, Olson shuddered.

“Gives you the creeps, doesn’t he?” His voice was slightly strained, the effort of matching Garraty’s strides making a thin sheen of sweat build up on his brow. Garraty slowed his pace, and didn’t miss Olson’s glare, but when he next spoke, he sounded a little more like the boy Garraty had met at the beginning of the Walk.

“Stebbins?”

“Yeah. He’s weird. Don’t like him.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The truth was, Garraty agreed with him. Something about Stebbins made him feel uncomfortable, like he was being studied. There was something in the detached way he glanced around them that made Garraty’s skin prickle, and he couldn’t blame Olson for wanting to get away from him as soon as possible. 

But at the same time, if what Stebbins said was true, then he and Garraty were the same. He wondered which of the other boys was Stebbins’ match, and if Stebbins was thinking the same things, feeling the same things as Garraty. He wondered if Stebbins was feeling phantom aches in the back of his knees too, the pressure from two sets of feet hitting concrete slowly building up. 

“Ey, here he is! The best of us all, he who will walk us into the dirt, who’s holy light blinds us - Oh, Olson, you’re here, too. Hey.”

“Shut the fuck up, McVries” Olson mumbled, his eyes beginning to shadow again. He swung a tired hand in Garraty’s direction. “Garraty?”

Garraty sighed, holding back a laugh. “Sorry, Hank, I like pineapple on pizza, too.”

Olson’s jaw dropped, and just ahead of him, McVries honest to god punched the air and whooped. Against his will, Garraty grinned, Pete’s enthusiasm infectious. 

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you guys are fucking gross. I mean, we already know y’all were weird, but this is some new shit,” Collie Parker said. For once, his voice wasn't hostile, and there was no trace of mocking in his easy smile, but Garraty’s smile dropped from his face as quickly as a horribly familiar weight landed with a thud in his gut.

“Personally, I like mayonnaise on my pizza.”

“Baker, what the _fuck_?”

The group exploded.

Garraty dropped back a little, the weight sitting in his gut so heavy he felt like he might trip again. Shaking his head like he could shake the mounting panic Parker’s words had caused, he was almost afraid that he would earn his second warning from overthinking that comment. The road was twisting, rising and falling like it was breathing, alive. 

The sun was sizzling, sending sparks across his vision in perfect tempo with the sparking, rushing rhythm of his heart and the buzzing in his palms. The rest of the boys seemed so very far away. Where were they? Where was he?

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Garraty looked up to see a pair of familiar brown eyes, warm with concern. 

“You okay, Ray?” McVries asked, and after a moment, he nodded. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“No worries. Hey, I just said that you’d out-walk us all, didn’t I? Don’t make me look stupid and die on me, capisce?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Garraty intoned with a sardonic salute, and McVries burst into peals of bright, warm laughter.

“Good man,” he said in a terrible impersonation of the Major, and he clapped Garraty on the shoulder. 

They grinned at each other, and while they didn’t say anything else as they kept walking, Garraty felt more comfortable walking with McVries than he had since… well, since before the Walk, at least, he thought. The sense of panic, the burning guilt and shadowy shame that stretched back to sandboxes and childhood games seemed to melt away when he was with Pete, and he couldn’t tell if he loved or hated him for it. 

“He won’t last,” McVries said at last, and Garraty followed his line of sight to Olson. 

“I thought he would,” he admitted, remembering the bright-eyed boy with the loud voice who he’d met only a few hours ago, and McVries shook his head. 

“I knew he wouldn’t. You could see it in his eyes.” He laughed, but it was nothing like the laugh he’d given Garraty earlier; this one was hollow, joyless. “Guess that makes me a fool for becoming friends with him, huh?”

“I don’t want him to die,” Garraty said, and it came out childish, naive, but McVries just smiled at him, a sad, slow, smile that made Garraty want to hug him and take him far away from the Walk and everything it carried with it. 

“Me neither. I hope… I hope it’s not bad.”

“When he gets his ticket,” Garraty finished, and McVries nodded at him.

“What’s this about tickets?” 

McVries jumped a little in surprise, clearly not having seen Scramm draw closer to them. He was looking well, lively as ever, save from the sheen of sweat that dripped down his forehead. 

“Just discussing with ol’ Ray here,” McVries replied, and ruffled Garraty’s hair again. 

Scramm hummed, seemingly accepting that answer, vague as it was. “I thought you were going to get yours, earlier,” he said to Garraty, “when you had that coughing fit?”

Garraty felt rather than saw McVries tense up, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sorry, no,” he said, smiling tightly, “it’s going to take a little more than that to get rid of me.”

Scramm smiled at him, and he smiled back. He liked Scramm, he did, but in the moment all he could think about was the stiff posture of the boy beside him, his mind a never-ending mantra of _McVries McVries McVries._

Gathering his resolve, he glanced to his right, and saw that McVries was already looking at him. McVries held his gaze for a long moment, looking for something, anything, he didn’t know what, his stare completely unreadable. 

“I better catch up,” McVries said, and Garraty felt phantom fingernails digging into his palms as he kicked up dirt alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two people know the Stebbins storyline, and I intend to keep it a secret. >:) Also, a huge shoutout to my lovely beta reader, classicalreader213! :D  
> Tumblr is binarystarkillers.

**Author's Note:**

> The conversation Garraty has with his mother once they enter the grounds of the Walk and his dialogue with Pete are directly from the novel. This was done to show how while this takes place in an alternate universe, obviously, it's still canon compliant and will mirror the original novel in a lot of ways. This is, as previously stated, the only time King's dialogue is used.


End file.
